Challenge Accepted
by Ivanolix
Summary: Regina and Emma always have a little competition in their life. Swan Queen fluff bordering on crack, established relationship AU.


A crick had firmly lodged itself in her neck. Regina sighed until the weight of work fell from her shoulders, twisted her head from left to right, and sighed again—but to no avail. This was a task for her partner.

"Hey mom," Henry called from the living room as she walked through the foyer and dropped groceries on the counter. "Hey," Emma echoed.

Like mother, like son, the two of them slouched in pajama pants on the sofa, riveted to the TV. It looked like a nature program about penguins. She'd let them have until 7pm, at which point Regina expected them at the dining-room table and sitting upright at the very least.

Before she could say anything, however, her eyes caught sight of the coffee-table. "Did you buy McDonalds for him?" Regina poked a gloved finger at the yellow wrappers and napkins scattered across her once-spotless glass. "You know the rule is no junk food on school nights."

"No, of course not." Emma looked away from her penguin show and smiled. "You said I'm not allowed to mess up the kitchen, but I was starving, so. It's all mine."

Regina bit back a helpful comment about Emma's grasp of sarcasm—and healthy eating—and made only a brief tsk. And then she saw the wine. "Dear...is that my Sauvignon?"

"Mmhmm. It's nice."

She felt the crick in her neck turn to prickles. "You can't have Sauvignon with cheeseburgers."

Emma slowly blinked. "Well, I did."

Regina put her hands on her hips. "That was a $50 bottle of wine!"

Her partner had the decency to look sheepish. "It's..._really_ nice?"

Regina tossed her hands to the sky. Somehow Emma led to less nice things in her life than even baby Henry had. There weren't enough words to explain that without it sounding hurtful, so she stuck to: "You can't have $50 Sauvignon with McDonalds cheeseburgers."

"I can, because I did," Emma said, enunciating each word carefully. "Challenge accepted. But I won't do it again, it's not worth it."

The glare burned.

Emma waved a hand vaguely in her direction, just as Regina started to realize that the wine bottle was empty. "Don't glare at me. What are you, my mother?"

Following a sharp intake of breath, Regina turned to Henry. "I'm going to make dinner, dear. Please explain to your mother why she's wrong. She listens to you, at least."

Henry's eyes grew large. "Mom, can't I just go do homework? I need to do homework."

"Ah ah. No. First explain to your mother." It looked like her neck would go untended, since Emma had not budged from her sulky, tipsy sprawl on the sofa. Regina was tired, unfed, and silently mourning one of her best wines.

Henry groaned, eyes rolling skyward. "Mom, other mom thinks you're behaving like a kid because you don't respect her set boundaries. Also you aren't really supposed to drink when I'm around." He hopped up from the sofa and jogged towards his bedroom. "Bye moms, have fun, I'm going to do homework."

Emma mumbled an apology, craning her neck around Regina to see the penguins while Regina gathered all the trash from the coffee-table. She left without offering more than an eyeroll.

Every Friday night, Regina spent a little extra time in the kitchen. Cooking wasn't something she'd considered in her old kingdom, but in this world it was an area in which to showcase skills. Each piece of pie crust laid perfectly in place, and cooked till golden brown, hid beneath it a bubbling stew of apples and spices. Even before the pie finished baking, Emma and Henry would find their way to the kitchen, noses first. She would say "Wait a few minutes" and smile, and they would—not that they had a choice, since they were both hopeless with cooking. It was a mundane kind of magic.

This night, no eager noses came sniffing to the oven. Emma had to rest off her wine-drunkenness and Henry did have a two-foot stack of books to read for school. Disappointing, but Regina held back her pettiness. They were her family and she loved them regardless of behavior.

Leftover lasagna heated up in the oven while Regina set the table, pausing every couple minutes to admire the dish resting on the pie rack. The pie-crust apple on top had browned dark and it crisped beneath her fingernail when she stroked it. Altogether a nice presentation.

"Emma, Henry, dinner!" She still had to fight back the urge to say Miss Swan. Emma might enjoy it in the bedroom, but it would set a bad example for Henry if used in public.

As usual, her two special idiots trotted to the table and ate hungrily. Regina poured herself a glass of wine, and two glasses of water for Emma and Henry. Not a word spoken out of line, and Emma squeezed her knee under the table. It made up for earlier—almost.

Once done, Henry darted off to homework again. Emma started cleaning up dishes. The crick in Regina's neck began to fade.

"Aww, I forgot to unload the dishes when I got home." Emma opened the dishwasher, groaned, and grabbed silverware from the basket to put away.

Regina, half-humming to herself, folded up placemats and reorganized the wines Emma had shuffled around. She turned to the kitchen to see her partner haphazardly toss forks into the drawer. "Excuse me. Please sort them; you know I like it to be organized."

Emma nodded absently and then blinked, glancing down at the drawer. "Really. Really? There's separate mini-drawers for small forks and big forks? You can't do this to me…"

"I can, because I did," Regina said in a crisp voice over her shoulder. Then, after a pause, a little pettiness leaked out. "Fine, challenge accepted." She gave an evil look. "I'll give each fork and each drawer a number, so you only have to match them. That's not too hard, I'm sure. Henry managed it in preschool."

Emma's mouth had turned down at the corners, eyes narrowed. "You win. But don't you dare go near my sock drawer."

Regina shrugged. No matter how organized a sock drawer, it still housed things that went on _feet_. One might as well sort used tissues.

They finished cleaning the kitchen without argument. From Henry's bedroom came the trills of grating pop melodies, and occasionally his attempts to sing along. Regina let out a pained sound and Emma snorted, then grabbed the apple pie. "I want to see the rest of the penguin show."

Since she did not share her partner's obsession with penguins, Regina hummed to drown out Henry and swept the kitchen floor. The broom seemed to mock her, but she reminded it that domestic chores had to be done to set an example for Henry. He would not grow up helpless. Her little prince he might be, but a prince without servants.

She only lasted a few minutes, though, before weariness overwhelmed her, and a craving for Emma's attention. This was the time of day when even Regina could relax on the sofa, blocking out whatever Emma watched with the steady sound of her heartbeat in one ear. Maybe even a little fire in the fireplace—non-magical though it had to be.

Regina liked cozy, but it wasn't in reach tonight. She stood in the doorway, foot tapping even as she tried to stop it. "Emma. Dear. Won't you put a slice of the pie on a _pie-plate_ and put the dish back in the kitchen?"

Emma protested through a mouthful of apples. "But I started eating in the middle. It's not slice-shaped anymore."

The crick was back in Regina's neck. She rubbed at it with the back of her hand, muttering, "Yes, I can see that." The beautifully crafted pie now looked like a murder victim.

"It's okay," Emma said while still watching the herd of waddling penguins on-screen. "I'll eat the whole pie."

_Just give up_, Regina told herself. _Give it up_. She took a seat on the couch, but heard herself saying, "You can't eat a whole pie."

Groaning, Emma waved a fork at her. "Challenge. Accepted."

"You'll make yourself sick."

"Challenge accepted."

"Emma."

"Accepted."

Regina made a throaty grumble, averted her eyes from the pie disaster, and rested her head on Emma's shoulder. She was half-asleep when Emma triumphantly lifted the empty pie dish, but still managed a sarcastic clap or two. Emma's groans of distress woke her some time later—the TV was off, Henry was asleep, and a tiny trail of her drool had soaked through Emma's pajama top.

"Sick?" she inquired, groggy but unsurprised.

"I finished the pie," Emma mumbled.

"I know." Regina sat up, stretched, and found her neck still cricked. "Could you maybe—?"

Emma's fingers rubbed it away within seconds. Regina's purr filled the silence for another minute more, until her intrepid sheriff suddenly spoke in a soft voice. "I don't mean to be difficult. I mean I do. But it's not… Regina… You're kind of annoying, with all your rules."

Regina made a silent laugh. Like mother, like son.

"I know organization is important to you, and I appreciate some of it, but some days... You can't stop trying to control my life, can you."

For the one-thousandth time since their relationship began, Regina told herself she could let it go. All of it. Emma was worth it. Henry was too.

She glanced up after a moment. Emma looked both ill and concerned. Lifting one hand, Regina caressed her cheek and smiled. "Challenge accepted."


End file.
